Vengeance (unoriginal I know... any ideas?)
by Carina
Summary: Years ago Jazda Arione, daughter of werewolf and vampire, watched her soulmate die, helpless to save him. Years on, still she burns for revenge... first time fic, R&R but be nice!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own the characters of Jazda Arione, Radine, Lark, Crystal Nightshade, Felmar, and some others I haven't brought in yet. Anything else is not mine and y'all should now it anyhow. Erm...don't sue? Right.  
R&R please with advice but don't be too harsh... I hate crying!  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE   
Hunting  
  
The vampire led the human girl out into the streets of Las Vegas, heading for an area where her screaming wouldn't matter as it would be a commonplace occurrence. Further behind him followed several other vampires, members of his gang, looking to join in on the fun. At last he reached a secluded area, away from the vermin territory, and turned to face the girl, sneering. She was a pretty waif like blonde, nice bright trusting blue eyes, although with a incessant flapping mouth. Well, that didn't matter. It wasn't as though she'd be doing more talking after long.   
  
"Wow its interesting round here, isn't it? I've never been here before, I always wanted to and I can't believe I won so much money at that casino, this is such a lucky night..." babbled the girl brightly.  
  
Still, he was getting irritated with her prattling. The five others in his gang slowly formed a circle around them. The girl blinked absently around at them.  
  
"Say, who are they? Your friends?"   
  
"Yeah," agreed Lark. "Maybe we can all have some fun together. What do you say."  
He grinned and revealed his long sharp fangs, gripping the girl's shoulders as she stared at him. He loved it when they screamed...   
  
She didn't.   
  
Instead she examined his glowing silvery eyes with a curious sort of boredom. "You vampires. You're all the same."   
  
Lark gaped at her in surprise, so surprised that he didn't notice the girl raising her hand and- A burst of searing orange witch fire sprang from her hand and hit him in squarely in the chest, lifting Lark off his feet and slamming him hard against a nearby brick wall. Stunned and gasping he screamed blindly: "Kill it!"   
  
Then all hell broke loose.   
Three figures surged out from the shadows and attacked the other five vampires with savage, efficient vehemence, one of his gang broke free and lunged for the witch with fangs bared and eyes flaring with fury.   
There was a snarling, harsh roar and a massive, fiery eyed dark shape sprang out and hit it, bearing the vampire to the floor as he screamed in the confusion of ripping teeth, snarls, red blood, flailing limbs-   
  
Lark struggled to stand up, he was hurt but healing fast, he had to get out of here... He looked up and saw a tall woman where the wolf had been, dressed in slightly ripped clothes, dishevelled hair. She was looking directly at him and her eyes blazed with heated resolve, the hard gaze gripping his own, a snarl on her full lips-   
  
Lark felt his throat dry up and his body turn cold, just like the bodies of his many victims had done, but this was different, this time he was the prey, he didn't want to die, he didn't-   
A vampire sprinted up behind her, and without bothering to even turn and look she whirled and landed a powerful kick that sent the vampire flying.  
  
Lark swallowed hard, sweating as she moved forward and seized his collar, easily lifting him up. The woman's eyes burned into his. They were a piercing, glittering amber colour, like the fire of a sunset, but it was nothing compared to the coldness and hate in the endless depths of her pupils. She examined him, then seemingly satisfied, raised her other hand. It came forward. All went black.  
  
  
  
Jazda Arione let the unconscious vampire drop to the floor again and turned to survey the rest of her team. Most of the vampire gang were already staked and she watched as her lieutenant, Crystal Nightshade, calmly pulled out a stake and disposed of the one she'd kicked. It had taken about one minute. Hardly a challenge.   
She momentarily closed her eyes and let the air in her lungs out, feeling her fire and life leave her. Then she opened her eyes again.   
  
"Another job well done," she smiled coolly, and Crystal smiled back in acknowledgment.   
  
"Should we dispose of the remains?" "No," said Jazda. "Leave them here as a warning for any buddies of theirs." She looked over to Radine Arlin.   
  
"Another excellent performance, Radine."   
  
The blond witch grinned and blushed. "Thanks, Jazda." Radine was a powerful witch but looked very human, which naturally led to many misunderstandings. Still, Jazda had turned this into a helpful asset.   
  
"Although, what was that crack about us vampires? I didn't like that," complained the last member of their team, a muscular, dark haired vampire with emerald green eyes.   
  
"Well, it wasn't aimed at you, Felmar," Radine told him reassuringly. Then she gulped and quickly added, "Nor you, boss."  
  
Jazda smirked slightly at the fact that she had left out Crystal, who was a vampire too but nodded to show no offence taken. "Maybe you shouldn't have come here, Jazda," said Crystal softly, as she brushed herself down. Crystal always liked to look impeccably neat. "Thierry will be somewhat annoyed that you didn't turn up for the meeting."   
  
In response Jazda just shrugged in lazy boredom. "Thierry can rant all he wants, I'm not waiting at his beck and call, not anymore and I was going stir crazy waiting for something to do. Apparently he prefers to send out his usual Daybreak lackeys to get all the fun. I say, there's no satisfaction like adding the personal touch," she replied and smirked again, wiping the remaining blood off her mouth.   
Crystal just grunted in response.   
  
Crystal was her lieutenant and an old vampire, at least two hundred years old. Naturally, as a vampire, she only looked about twenty, at the most. She had short, silky white blond hair and pale blue eyes with lighter streaks in them, and a quick and neat mind. If you wanted a job executed well you could rely on Crystal to sort it out. Jazda had only recently promoted her when her previous lieutenant had been found ...unpleasantly... dead, the work of Night Worlders. Nonetheless, although she trusted and relied on Crystal, she sometimes felt Crystal resented her being in charge all the time. Sometimes she would catch her looking at Jazda with a sort of calm thoughtfulness but no clues of what she was thinking revealed in those impassive blue eyes. Well, never mind that. Jazda turned her attention onto the last remaining vampire at her feet. He would be taken elsewhere for questioning. Rumours of a new type of resistance from the Night World had reached the ears of Circle Daybreak and it was vital they found information on it, and fast. Lark was the only lead they had left.  
  
Jazda inhaled the cold air, delicately sorting through the scents with her sensitive sense of smell. It had been a while since she'd had any fun like this, she'd spent the last few months stuck in her mansion, sorting through meaningless paperwork and helping plan the actions of Circle Daybreak. Now that she had finally gotten out and joined her team on a capture she felt hungry for more action, and the taste of the vampire who she'd killed made her want more.   
It wasn't full moon yet, the wolf within did not need to kill, but nothing quite satisfied Jazda like the smell of blood, or better still, the taste of it. And the hunt, the thrill of the chase, the desire to find and hunt and kill-  
  
On the edges of her hearing she heard a car approaching and turned to the others with a sigh of regret.   
  
"Our ride's coming." She leant down and picked up Lark. For a vampire of her strength, it was nothing.  
Jazda Arione wasn't a vampire. She wasn't a werewolf. She was both, a hybrid, child of both Redfern and Arione lineage, two of the most powerful families in the Night World, stronger than most vampires, faster than most werewolves. Unusual, really, considering such combinations usually produced weaklings or freaks. She was rich, changeless, old, powerful, proud, an immortal vampire, one of the strongest Night People... and alone. Alone forever, now.   
  
  
There was a knock at his office door. Thierry sighed deeply, glad for some distraction from the masses of paperwork and with that thought shoved it aside. He hoped it would be Hannah, he had seen too little of her lately. Sometimes he hated his massive, expensive, opulent mansion. It often became a prison where he was forced to stay, whilst his beloved soulmate wandered the lonely maze like corridors, awaiting the rare moments he would have to spend with her. Lately he felt as though all of his thousands of years were finally taking their toll. He felt old, weary of responsibility, and very, very, tired.   
  
"Come in," he called. The door opened and he saw it was Jazda Arione. Thierry straightened slightly in his chair, not looking forward to this. "Hello, Jazda."   
  
She nodded slightly. "Thierry."   
  
She crossed the room and took a seat in front of the desk. As always, Jazda looked stunning, sophisticated. Her sculpted face was framed by rich, thick waves of reddish chestnut hair, a natural golden tan, her perfect figure somehow making the slightly ripped clothes she was wearing still look glamourous and fashionable. She appeared to be in her early twenties, but the look and suggestion of power in her gaze revealed that she was far older. The almond shaped bronze eyes, with their glittering flecks of amber gold, fixed on him expressionlessly.   
  
As always, she also looked emotionless and unreadable. As if she only lived for battle.   
  
"How went the capture?" inquired Thierry.   
  
"Perfectly. I have my agents working on him as we speak." She smiled faintly at that thought.   
Thierry nodded. Beneath her sophisticated exterior Jazda was easily capable of being ruthless. It disturbed him sometimes to see the undercurrent of violence in her ageless eyes.   
  
Lately Thierry had sensed that something was changing in her, becoming more remote, more angry. The calm before the storm, he thought. Still he could understand that because he had once, well, many times experienced what she had gone through, but he'd always had hope at least...   
  
It still concerned him. Jazda had a tendency to make up her own rules, and this was a crucial time for Circle Daybreak. But he intensely disliked having to warn her against this as he may be the oldest vampire on this planet but having to reprimand other old and powerful people made him feel somewhat embarrassed.   
He'd leave it for now. Her contacts and agents were valuable assets and he didn't want to jeopardize them, and he had known her for a century and she had always kept her word.   
  
"I have another matter needing to be settled, if you have the time," he offered instead. Something flickered in her amber eyes. "There's a group of spies been infiltrating us. I believe you'll find them at the Black Iris in ... precisely one hour. Nilsson has their descriptions."   
  
"Hmm." Jazda arched a brow. "Do we need anything out of them?"  
  
"No."   
  
She smiled, then, in genuine pleasure. Her eyes shone with amber fire. "Excellent."  
Jazda left Thierry's mansion, moving through the plushly decorated hall to the door, intent on her task, feeling the hunger for blood. That was the problem of being both werewolf and vampire, the hunger, the frequent lust for the hunt. Jazda lived for the hunt, now, lived to chase her prey. Lived for the one day when the burning desire for vengeance in her heart, that eternal fire in her inner core, could be satisfied by the blood of those she hated most. She'd find them one day. It was only a matter of time. Yeah, like time for her was an issue. Patience, on the other hand...  
  
Because, years ago, before Jazda's vampire powers had surfaced at the age of eighteen, Jazda had found her soulmate. Her companion, her love, the other half of her soul, the person who was born to be with her until she died, destined to love her always.  
Jazda Arione had watched him die at the hands of another a year later, helpless to save him. Love was gone.  
  
  
Her revenge was her life. She was going to find every damned creature that had anything to do with what had happened the day her life had died, and kill every one of them to the very last one. Then, if it didn't tell her what she wanted to know, she'd kill it too.  
  
Revenge was all that kept her alive.  



	2. Vengeance- Remembering

Okay, sorry this has taken so long but I've been locked up every day in a sadistic institute for seven hours each day. They call it 'school'. Well anyway I'm free for the moment so I'll be adding more chapters pretty damn quick.  
Thanx for the comments so far and this is split in three parts, the first in the now, the second is a remembrance from the past, the third the now again. Okay?   
  
  
  
  
  
Ryarth Hemlock drained his glass in one gulp, relishing the burning tang of the alcohol in his throat. Blood and alcohol, did it get any better? Well... he smirked. Maybe the fat wad of cash and power he'd get for reporting Circle Daybreak's latest plans to his Night World contacts shortly would come a close third.   
He grinned at the other vampire and the shapeshifter couple who were his fellow Daybreak spies. Easy work, easy money, and Ryarth idly glanced about the dark interior of the Black Iris for someone who'd provide him with refreshment of the more traditional kind.  
A young, gorgeous woman was walking towards him. He blinked. Lucky night.  
  
"Hello," she murmured huskily, coppery brown eyes locked on his face.  
  
"What's a babe like you doing in a place like this?" he grinned. He had the feeling he'd seen her before somewhere.  
In response she put her hand on his shoulder and smiled a little. Well, he liked them eager.  
  
"Looking for you."  
  
"Yeah? Well lucky you, you got me..."  
  
"Yes, I really do. I'm planning on killing you."  
  
  
  
  
  
Remembering...  
  
  
She ran with delicate grace, moving smoothly and quickly through the woods as all of her kind could, like a flowing whisper of smoke. The scents of flowers and rich leaf mould filled the air, the sweet piping of birds, and in her ears she could hear the laughter of the other half of her soul behind her, running to catch her. He would catch her eventually, she would make sure of it.  
Paws seeming to barely touch the ground, the large tawny female wolf leapt and ran through the forest, heading to the hill that reared in the centre of the forest, heading to her favourite place where she always went to meet him... She broke free of the woods to the mossy base of the small hill.   
  
"I'm getting closer!" called a human's voice behind her.   
Turning in an unnecessary human like gesture to pinpoint him visually she put a paw down a pothole. With startled yelp she stumbled.  
  
"Got you!" sang a voice that was pleasant to hear even in the ears of another shape, and the wolf changed easily, form stretching and reshaping into a young woman. Jazda stretched, reaqquainting herself with this shape and grinned happily as her soulmate dropped down beside her.  
  
"I win!" he cheered, but she silenced his triumph with a swift kiss. Brilliant sparks of energy seemed to leap in her mind and she felt golden warmth wherever their skin touched.   
  
"Not fair," he mumbled teasingly. "I was looking forward to a good gloat..."   
  
-I let you catch me- she told him mentally. - and this is your prize-  
  
-You should let me win more often...-  
  
Finally they pulled apart. Jazda looked up into the face of her soulmate. When they had met and come together it had been as if she had never lived before she knew love. He was her life.  
He smiled, catching her thoughts, and his warm topaz coloured eyes sparkled. It had been that warmth and energy in his eyes that she had first noticed, but it was the trueness of who he was inside that made her love him. Tieran Mioroke, her soulmate. She could hardly believe that he had only come into her life a year ago.  
  
"It's our anniversary tomorrow," he said, looking wondering himself. "What shall we do to commemorate it?"   
  
Jazda just leaned forward and kissed him again. She felt the surge of warmth, love, pure white energy as their minds met and connected openly with a brilliance that made the world and all it had to offer look dull and lifeless. Their thoughts swelled and merged in a closeness that was indescribable...  
After perhaps a lifetime they pulled apart. Jazda smiled, looking into his dazed eyes. "Now, what could we do that could be better than that?"  
  
Tieran smiled wickedly, pulling her closer. "My, my, what a challenge..."  
  
"It certainly is, but it may just have to wait."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because my foot's down a hole and it's really painful."  
  
"Oh." He helped her up.  
  
Jazda looked up the hill. At the top was a strange, open sided building, like a temple. It was made from a strange turquoise coloured rock with darker swirls through it, the roof very tall, supported by intricately carved pillars. It was some kind of witch building, that was all Jazda's clan knew. No one went there. Well, other than them. She blushed at the thought. It was hard to find privacy round here, what with the Pack running about at night and the vampires prowling about looking for blood.  
At that thought she winced. They were going to be mad to find she had escaped from her usual meditation session to be with Tieran. He was her soulmate, a gentle witch. She didn't get why they wouldn't accept him.  
  
"They'll understand one day," said Tieran reassuringly.  
  
"I know, but Father is so set in his ways..." sighed Jazda. "All he and Mother want is for me to train day in, day out forever so they can make me into a strong leader."  
  
"Well, few like you-"  
  
"-exist," Jazda finished for him. It was true. The Night World held laws against cross species marriage. That hadn't stopped her mother, Garnet Redfern, from marrying her father, Manargn Arione. The clan of Arione, a renowned werewolf Pack, and the lamia family Redfern, combined into one person. She was that person.  
  
Her parents were proud, ambitious people and eventually the Night World had left them alone. In any case it was rare for cross breeds to be particularly strong. Usually they were a little of both, or just the one.   
It seemed to Jazda that she only took after her father, but the witches who had visited their village each year had done some weird spells and were convinced Jazda was lamia too. All that meant to Jazda was that she was different.  
To her parents it meant she would grow up to be the model Night Person- powerful, strong, destined to be a great leader of both vampires and werewolves- with the right training. As a result Jazda lived under a strict regime of meditation, potions and rituals that her parents thought would bring out her vampire genes, and rigorous training and fighting lessons. Jazda just wanted to them to leave her alone and let her be happy as she was. Tieran was the only one to understand. He loved her. But her parents had married for ambition, not love.  
Still, if not for the regular visits of the Mioroke witch family each year she would not have met Tieran. He and his parents had stayed when they realised Tieran and Jazda were true soulmates. At least they understood...  
  
"Jazda!" Faintly she heard the shouts of her father, far away but approaching. Searching for her. She scowled. Why couldn't she have had normal parents instead of a pair of strict disciplinarians who just wanted to turn her into a mindless fighter.   
  
"Father's coming. I best go. He'll be angry." She kissed her soulmate goodbye. "Meet me at our secret place tonight?"  
  
"I will."  
  
Jazda struggled through the tangled undergrowth, trying hard not to snag her filmy white dress on the protruding bushes and branches of the woods. She knew her way through these woods easily but she was in a hurry and the trees seemed closer and more menacing. -Don't be so silly- she chided herself. She thought instead of Tieran and how pleased he would be to see her. She'd had to sneak out of her room to come meet him and it hadn't been easy to slip out quietly. Werewolves were excellent guards and her father's clan was no exception...  
There, the hill loomed in front of her. She started forward- and froze. She'd been so preoccupied thinking she hadn't noticed the strange noises and smells ahead. What was going on? She frowned, looking up at the abandoned temple with her piercing night vision, listening hard. It would have been easier in wolf shape, the world painted in noise and smells rather than sight and imagination, but she preferred human shape-  
Then a scream ran out, and she froze again before lunging forward with her own. It was Tieran.  
  
  
There was pain, and more pain. Tieran hung helpless as the world swirled in a madness of black and scarlet and hellish chants-   
The pain receded temporarily, and he gasped frantically for breath. The world stopped spinning but it was no better now-  
  
"I love your screams. So... earnest," whispered the girl who had bound him to the tall stone pillar in the centre of the temple. Often Jazda and he had wondered what it was and now he knew.   
  
"Enjoying it?" she asked. Tieran drew up his failing strength and spat at her.  
  
"Not...impressed..."  
  
Tall black candles formed a wide circle around him, and inside the circle of flames stood seven tall people, dressed in black robes, faces painted with crimson blood. His blood. Each held a human skull with a symbol painted on it and their voices rose and fell in a intent, searing chant of strange guttural syllables. Tieran screamed again as a wave of pain tore through him as their voices rose again, stabbing into his brain. Symbols were carved at his feet and a reeking, acidic smell emanated from the candles as he twisted madly.  
The black haired girl danced in front of him excitedly, pale blue eyes glittering with pleasure, a silver dagger in her slender hands. Tieran had been seized as he had walked through the woods and he had fought but they had been too strong, strong like vampires.  
  
"Nearly ready," hissed a man with long black hair and eyes that changed colour like the lights in a faceted crystal. "Nearly ready-"  
  
A slender woman with hard black eyes and long blood red hair stepped forward, raising some sort of dark crystal in her hands. A crackling aura of dark energy leapt and stabbed around her and a fiendish smile contorted her face. In response the crystal throbbed with flashes of light and in response the walls of the temple swirled with scarlet red power strands.  
  
"Death to the damned Mioroke! Death to the stealers of souls!" sang the black haired girl.  
  
The evil magic that was concealed in this place was waking up, and then there was a flash of movement at the edges of his blurring vision as Jazda hurled herself forward into the circle, screaming frantically.  
She knocked into the red haired witch and shoved her back. The chanting was broken and the others lunged forward to stop her, surrounding her and Jazda fought desperately, lashing out with fists and feet and teeth-  
Then she shrieked on a new note that hurt Tieran more than anything. Her beautiful amber-brown eyes turned to him for the last time, then she fell forward, the blue eyed vampire's silver dagger in her back.   
Tieran stared uncomprehendingly. Silver...  
Panting, the red haired woman turned back to him. "Your little soulmate, eh?"  
"Dead?" asked one of the witches.  
"Will be soon," snarled the woman. "What with a silver knife in her back. Justice for trying to stop us."  
"The ritual's been broken," said the young witch worriedly.  
The black eyes locked on Tieran.  
"Too bad. We'll just have to start again."  
  
  
The blackness obscured everything. Amongst it hung a single spark of consciousness, suspended in silence.  
The spark grew, slowly, until it was a flame. With it came pain. More than physical pain. A heart rending pain that would obscure everything.  
Nonetheless, the flame still grew until-  
Jazda opened her eyes.  
She was staring into the face of her brother Kelstone.  
With a snarl of irrational animal hate she lunged for his throat.  
He avoided her, grabbing her wrists, and she realised she was in human form anyhow.  
"What did you do?!? WHAT DID YOU DO?!?" she screamed the words at him.  
"Calm down!"  
"I'll kill you first!"  
A slap hit her face and she fell back, stunned.   
"I didn't do anything! I just- came up here and found you- and- You've been missing for two days! No one wanted to come up here so they sent me!"  
She heard the words dimly.   
"What are you talking about?" she muttered.  
"Jazda, you have been up here for two days. Ever since... I mean... "  
Then she remembered.  
She sprang to her feet, ignoring the rush of dizziness and turned, seeing the temple, the blood stained floor, the arcane symbols, the burnt candles, the body of Tieran-  
She howled in agonized realization...  
He was cold.  
He was dead.  
  
Jazda felt her soul shatter into a myriad of pieces. He was dead...  
"What happened?" she heard a twisted voice whimper, and realized it was her.  
  
No one knew. Tieran's parents had vanished that night too. All those who dared venture to the top of the hill where the black ritual had taken place came back shaken and confused. The dark energy residing there was ominous and cold. She didn't understand it. Why had it happened? Why had they done that to him?   
Her father, cold and practical as always, reassured her by saying that one day the killers would be brought to Night World justice. Night World justice. For some reason Jazda had a feeling they'd give them a pat on the head rather than a knife in their hearts. And then came the cremation ceremony and the numb shock over her mind vanished.  
She broke down and cried.  
"I'm going to kill myself then," sobbed Jazda wildly, pressing her face against her hands. Hot, wet tears flowed between them like a cataclysm that would never stop-  
"No." It was her brother who spoke to her.  
"Yes. I cannot stand to live without him! If I die too then we will be together always."  
"No." This time it was her father who spoke.  
"What?" asked Jazda, raising her head and blinking. "Maybe he would have wanted me to live but I do not believe I can, I just cannot-"  
He gently reached out and caught her hands, pressing them gently.   
"If you die, you will be even more alone then you are now."  
There was no understanding left in her. She felt hollow.  
"What?" she whispered, again, feeling young and so, so alone.  
"How do you know where you go after you die? How do you know he will be there?"  
Like pinpricks of light amongst an eternal limbo of heavy gray, the thoughts drifted down into her brain... The tears on her face slowed, and stopped forever. True. It was a belief of their clan that a soul could not...rest... truly, if it's unfair death wasn't brought to justice.  
She could not cry any more, it seemed.  
Even now he had been taken away. Even now, when Hell seemed like a welcome respite, she was suspended in the desolate blackness. Alone...  
She wanted to destroy herself because she didn't think she could live with herself, with the memories, and oblivion was sweet and inviting.  
But he wouldn't be there. She didn't know, maybe no one knew where you went after death. But if there was a chance that he wouldn't be there.... She could not stand that thought, for then truly there would be no escape. If there was a possibility that his soul would not be there... More so, though, she wanted to know. She wanted to kill them.   
  
Maybe she was the only one who could free him. She could do one, last thing for him.  
  
"I will do this for you," she whispered. "If it takes eternity I shall try."  
Her father knew somehow what she was thinking. He squeezed her hands once more, a futile but heartbreaking attempt to reassure her. He had never shown affection before, but even that did not matter to Jazda now.  
Jazda did the hardest thing she had ever done.   
She said goodbye to all that was left of her soulmate.  
She crawled over to the remains of her beloved, kissed his cold face for the last time, tasting his blood, and promised she would see him again, that she would set him free. With trembling, tear stained fingers she closed sightless topaz eyes that would never sparkle again.  
"If it takes an eternity I shall fight for you, I will, I will, I promise-". Whispered promises that she would never, ever forget, and she shakily stood back, moving away from him.   
  
She watched at his cremation as flame was touched to the pyre. As she stared at the leaping flames, she felt a new sensation sweeping over her like a bitter wash of frost. Numbness. Coldness. Resolve. As if all that she was receded and she instead only her strength remained. Yeah, that was it forever. Jazda, vampiric wolf-huntress was all that was left as the burning golden red flames consumed her shattered dreams. How ironic. What her parents could never achieve. To sap all her love for the world away and make her a committed killer.   
  
Yes, he was not the only one to have died that night.  
  
She and Kelstone scattered his ashes to the winds on the cliffs of Kabron a year later. She stood there for an hour, in silence.  
Then she turned to Kelstone. "Thank you."   
He nodded, sensing this was goodbye.  
Jazda's vampiric powers came soon after, and the eternal burning for the hunt. She left her clan, not needing them. She didn't need anyone anymore.  
Remembering those callous, laughing eyes...  
  
  
  
  
  
...Quite unlike the surprised eyes of the vampire looking at her now as she picked him up and heaved him into a wall.   
-All my life, my love, has vanished and all I am until I breathe my last, is a cold, empty executioner. A channel of hate and hunt- rage- ...  
-How poetic- she thought with contemptuous humour and whirled to face the other vampire spy as he jerked out a knife and held it at her.  
  
"Keep back, bitch!"  
  
Jazda changed quicksilver fast and leapt for him, knocking him onto the floor as she bit into his arm, jaws locking till they met, then as she heard movement behind her she ripped out the vampire's life and leapt off, turned, faced the other two spies...  
  
One was changing too into a werewolf, but a small and puny creature compared to her size and in a flash of movement, teeth and fur they were fighting, snarling, darting, dodging, feinting, then she surging forward again and caught the other wolf's throat in a ripping bite.  
A heavy blow struck her head and she vaulted away to find that the wounded first vampire had hit her with a chair.   
  
-That hurt- she told him telepathically.  
  
-But not as much as this will- and she prepared to spring at him.  
  
-NO!- cried a new voice and something lunged into Jazda's path.  
  
A puma?  
  
It was.  
  
-Interesting- she snarled at it and swiped at it with a claw. The puma backed away.   
  
-I can't let you kill him, but I am on your side-   
  
Jazda snarled in contempt again and feinted a lunge. When it turned she sprang the opposite way, onto the wall, leapt off it again and hit the vampire full force, ripping at it with her fangs.  
  
-NO!- cried the puma again and she turned to finish it too.  
  
The puma just stared at her with greenish gold eyes. Then it changed into human form.  
Jazda hesitated in surprise, ears flat against her skull. Why had it done that?  
One way to find out. She changed back into vampire form, her fur forming clothes again, fangs vanishing except for her canines, vision clearing to colours again, then snatched up the knife lying nearby and started towards the puma-shifter.  
  
"Hey, don't, I'm on your side-" gabbled the guy in surprise before she seized him byt the throat and held the knife in front of his eyes.   
He struggled but she was easily stronger. Eyes blazing amber, she leaned close to him and told him... an admittedly somewhat embarrassing clichéd statement that still got to the point decently.  
  
"Give me one good reason to spare your life."  
  
He swallowed. "Can I have a minute to sort the words out first?"  
  



	3. Finding

This is going a little crazy, isn't it. ah well. Thanx v much to comments, and forgive my silly writing, I will do better one day ;) Advice is welcome.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
Shadows of the Past  
  
Jazda held the knife point stock still, a fraction away from the spy's wide eyes. The air about them was thick with blood, it was in her mouth too, and the taste was electrifying and very, very distracting. She was trying to remember why she wasn't just killing this spy like she'd done the other three, and it was getting hard to control herself. She was starving, after all, ravenous...  
  
She'd been in this position many times throughout her cold, violent past. Dangling death before her victim's eyes while they bleated excuses at her. Watching the pathetic hope rise in their eyes, then the helpless terror when she killed them. Blood spilt from a begging victim was intensely more satisfying than blood from an unaware victim.  
The young man swallowed again, carefully. His golden flecked leaf green eyes were fixed on the tapered point of metal, and she could smell the waves of fear coming off him. They were alone in the bar, everyone else having sensibly fled. Just the two of them. How very cosy.  
"Well?" she asked, hearing the harsher, animal edge leaking into her voice, her long curved fangs pressing against her lower lip. Adrenalin still pumped through her veins and her mouth tingled, stomach burning. She hadn't fed properly all night.  
"Because I work for Circle Daybreak," he said softly and carefully.  
Jazda laughed, scornful and snarling, yearning for flesh. "Not good enough, little spy."  
"I do! I was onlypretendingtobeaNightWorldspysoIcouldfindoutwhattheyknowandeverythingforThierry-" The words came out in a garbled rush and he only stopped to inhale fresh oxygen before starting off again.  
She watched him, torn between amusement and suspicion, then gave him a kindly slap that nearly took his head off and shut him up.   
"Ow," mumbled the puma shapeshifter. "Look, I swear, I work for Circle Daybreak and I thought if I infiltrated the spies then Thierry'd be pleased, why else would I let you hold an extremely sharp knife next to my suddenly extremely valued eyes?" He looked pleadingly at her.  
"Thierry already gave me permission to destroy them. You're lying."   
"Oh...crap. Look, I swear, my name is Lynx Siestrax, I'm an agent of Circle Daybreak! I didn't realise Thierry knew about them!"  
"This just gets better and better. You expect me to believe that you were pretending to side with the spies." He nodded.   
"In order to find out what they knew." He nodded.  
"To see who they were meeting." He nodded.  
"To allow them to tell those people rather than kill the spies straight out so they don't leak dangerous information to the enemy."   
"Yes, that's- oh, crap. Again. That, er, didn't occur to me. I didn't mean that, er, it's amazing what a knifepoint in front of your eye does to your sense of rational reason and voice control-"   
She was an inch away from killing him. Her muscles tightened.  
"Err... the password... dammit, why don't I listen to these things-"   
She was a millimetre away from killing him. Her lips pulled back in half smile, half snarl.  
  
A harsh bang split the air and a nanosecond later the bullet crashed into the wall she was holding him up against in a minute explosion of sparks and stone chips. Reacting almost instantly she dropped Lynx and whirled about, going into a crouch, smelling the hot silver of the bullet and looking for the enemy.  
On the other side of the room stood a three figures, the Night World contacts, come for the spies, but she was focused on the central figure, a tall, muscular, handsome man with long jet black hair and eyes that were a hot and piercing pale green and at the end of his raised, straight arm he gripped a silvery snub nosed gun...   
Her eyes were fixed on the tiny hole at the end of the barrel, the blackness of it, abruptly changed by a flicker of light and that was the signal, the sign of death.  
Jazda leapt sideways, putting all of her muscles into a fast somersaulting jump as the second bullet sparked off the spot where'd she'd been. She landed on top of the polished oak bar counter and hastily rolled off to drop down behind it.   
  
"Get her!" roared a voice.  
  
She seemed to have become very popular very fast.  
  
-Memo to self- bring more shiny, sharp weapons next time- thought Jazda coolly, gripping her knife in her hand, listening hard, locating several sets of breathing, one seeming to be coming closer. Two more shots slammed through the bar, barely missing her as she moved along, listening, listening, till she heard fast approaching feet.  
  
Quickly she stood up, saw the figure running forward and pitched the knife with all her strength. She dropped down instantaneously, rolling sideways as more shots punched into the spot she'd been, not knowing if she'd killed her target but the agonized scream was a helpful hint.  
  
As she prepared to change, still slithering across the floor along the length of the bar there was a series of more shots and then someone landed in front of her. Jazda tried to put a fist through his head but he dodged and it went through the bar instead.   
  
-Wait!!!- she heard him shout telepathically at her. The puma.  
  
-Don't have time- she snapped and went to kill him.  
  
-In the name of the House of Drache, will you just stop? I could have gotten away if I was Night Worlder!-  
  
Interesting point, and there wasn't time to debate it. Another bullet burst through the bar wall. How many bullets did they have? They were just going to keep firing till they hit her.  
The puma shifter snatched up two fallen bottles of vodka and broke off the ends, handing her one.   
  
Weapons? She looked at him scornfully. Amateur. He shrugged.  
  
Ah well. Nothing for it. As if to prove it another bullet zipped through the wall but this time it skimmed over her shoulder and ripped it open. It hurt.   
It wouldn't kill her, though. Silver couldn't. Neither could wood. Not by themselves. Crossbreeds had their advantages, and a good thing too or she'd have been dead with a dagger in her back a long, long time ago.  
  
-Scream- she told the puma shifter.  
He blinked, then opened his mouth and shrieked in a good imitation of someone mortally wounded.  
  
Jazda changed, the rush of heat, the sensation of turning to energy, every part of her stretching and adapting, shifting to her proper shape-  
She bunched her wolf muscles, and sprang over the bar, landed on the red streaked, glass shard scattered floor, and began to run like mad towards the three figures, zigzagging behind and around the scattered tables, darting from place to place, catching glimpses of the two who remained, a tall man with a gun and a shorter blonde haired man.   
  
Three more shots rang out as he tried to hit her-   
  
*Crack* A bullet ricocheted off the ground in front of her and there was a slap of impact as it hit her this time in the ribs, Goddess, it hurt, but there was no time to whimper over it because she was a scant few metres away from them and closing fast with eyes locked on the throat of her target-  
  
Several glass bottles came flying over her head to smash into the men. At least the puma guy had finally decided to do something.   
  
-Now- she thought, and jumped straight for the gun wielding man. It would have worked except, the short blonde man was shifting into another shape and was in her way. Jazda collided with him instead and they rolled on the floor in a confusion of snarls and fangs, the sickening pain from the bullet inside her making it worse.  
  
She bit blindly at the other creature, fighting to extricate herself despite the teeth that had fastened in her shoulder. The leopard was smaller but more flexible and wiry, it clung like a leech and raked her with burning claws.  
  
She saw briefly the puma shifter stalking silently along the walls towards the man with the gun, who was aiming for them, not seeming to care who he hit, then she managed to get her feet under her and wrenched away from the leopard she was fighting. -I hate cats- Jazda thought with dispassionate anger, backing away and then darting in to try and knock the leopard on it's back...  
  
-STOP. Or die- The mental shout blasted into her head with like the scalding heat from an opened furnace, and it came from the black haired man who had slipped up behind her and was now pointing the gun straight at her head.  
  
Damn. Jazda snarled savagely at him, fighting back her bestial instincts to jump anyway and rip his throat out, eyeing the gun, enraged. Maybe silver bullets alone wouldn't necessarily kill her but a bullet in her head would still have a pretty good chance.  
  
-Better. Now, change.- His mental voice boomed.  
  
-Why- she asked icily, thinking furiously, stalling for time because she was hoping the puma was somewhere.  
  
-Do it.-  
  
Reluctantly she did, reshaping and twisting back into human form, fortunately dressed still in shapeshifter hide attire. She stared at the man with loathing, carefully analysing the situation. She might be able to leap for him but she'd take a bullet somewhere. As long as it wasn't her head or heart it could be okay. Maybe not.  
  
He was very handsome and probably some kind of vampire. His eyes had changed from pale green to hard brown, like the cold earth on a grave, and then changed to hard malicious black. A Redfern, then. Killed by her own relative.  
"You?" he whispered, and he was frowning hard, piercing stare drilling at her. She attempted to probe his mind but as expected he was heavily shielded.   
  
How did he know her? She was quite well known, after all, but he was looking at her like he'd seen a ghost. There was something familiar about him, the changing eyes, the black hair. She felt a sensation like slow tendrils of dark memories rising in her mind, exuding cold dread, because she'd seen him before, she should know him surely too.  
  
The man was laughing, mouth twisted in a sneer, yellowed vampire fangs showing, eyes shiny and endlessly black. "Should have known silver wouldn't stop you." With that he took a firmer grip on the gun and she prepared to throw everything she had in one headlong rush. She wasn't giving up her immortal life yet. Not yet.  
  
Then the sinuous shape of the puma fluidly sprang from where it had been hiding and landed on the vampire's back, locking hard jaws around his head.   
  
Jazda paused in surprise for a second, enjoying the man's shout of pain and fury. Then she heard a rasping yowl behind her and turned to see the leopard was poised to leap. The fight was far from over. She leapt up, corkscrewed her upper body around and hit the leopard's head stunningly hard with the back of her foot. It sagged to the floor, stunned, while she turned to check on the other fight.  
  
Bleeding heavily, somehow the man had gotten free and was running for the exit with the puma limping after him. As he reached the door he whirled about, raised the gun and fired at her. It missed. Then he was gone.   
  
Jazda ran after him and reached the outside in time to see the man leap into a waiting limousine, which departed in a screech of tires and exhaust. The puma ran after it, then sensibly gave up.   
  
She stared hard at the retreating car as it vanished into the night, memorizing the plates. The puma came and stood beside her. It was a large and beautiful feline with thick sandy fur and white tipped ears, but she was still too preoccupied with the memory of the man's face to notice him much until he spoke to her.  
  
-Are you hurt?-  
  
Jazda glanced down to where she'd been hit. The bullet had worked it's way out and it would heal in a few minutes. She was covered in scratches, blood and a few fang marks but they'd go soon too.  
  
-No- she replied and headed back into the Black Iris.  
  
It was a mess. Table wreckage and shattered glasses lay across the blood streaked floor, bullet holes marked an interesting pattern along the bar and there was also the problem of the several bodies lying about. She approached the two they'd taken down. One was dead with her knife in it's head and the other was- dead too. He'd been shot.  
  
"Either he was very unlucky or that vampire killed him to stop him telling us anything." She mused out loud.  
"They really don't go for loyalty in the Night World, huh," commented the puma. He'd changed into human again.  
  
"You better believe it." She rifled through their clothes, looking for a clue of some sort. She just had   
the weirdest feeling things were not right here.  
  
"That gun wielding vampire was really bad," the puma complained. "He burnt my head."  
"What?" she was only half listening. She'd found a strange tattoo on one of them. It consisted of two circles, one inside of the other. Symbols she didn't recognised were inscribed between them, and in the centre circle was a three pointed archaic symbol. Dark suspicion grew like a rising tide on her. She checked the other body. There was a tattoo there, too.  
  
"I made him drop his gun, but he used witch fire on me."  
  
"Vampire and witch?" she murmured distractedly. That tattoo, that symbol. She stared hard at it, biting her lip till it bled, growing cold all over. She knew where she'd seen it before.  
  
"Yeah. He was strong."  
  
She stood up and began to head out, then came back and pulled him along with her.  
  
"Are we going back to Thierry?"  
  
"No," she said distantly. "We'll go to my headquarters. I'll call Thierry and check you out. Then maybe you can help me on this."  
  
Jazda had joined Circle Daybreak because she hated the Night World for what it had done to Tieran. Circle Daybreak were somewhat idealistic and naive but the, at least, believed in soulmates and love, like she had once. Although most of her time had been spent helping them, she'd always had her vengeance project also, researching and listening for any clues to lead her to it. Now she felt like she'd finally found something solid whilst on what should have been a menial, basic mission.  
  
She left the scene, not caring about the mess. For the first time in a while the cold, numbing sensation had receded, taking the burning to hunt with it. Instead there was a new feeling, a sick, prickling feeling of nausea, the closest to fear she would come. Because Jazda knew where she'd seen that mark before.  
A memory surged in her mind, she was fighting inexpertly against a gang of vampire witches, hearing her soulmate call out to her, needing to save him. Then there had been a stabbing, piercing agony in her spine, like she'd been impaled by a shard of ice. She'd looked at Tieran one last time, then collapsed with a silver dagger in her back. As she'd begun to pass out, the hellish chaos of blood and smoke and voices twisting into a mass of confusion, she'd seen the symbol painted on the floor, on her soulmate's head, on the faces of the witches. The same symbol that was tattooed on the bodies of the two attackers. It was linked.  
For the first time in years she had a clue that would lead her to her revenge. She needed to get some research on this, find out what the symbol was, and how it would link to what she'd had to witness some two hundred years ago. She just knew they must be still alive. They were vampires as well as witches, she'd seen it in their faces when she'd fought them years ago.  
She really hoped the original ones who'd killed Tieran were still alive. They should be.  
  
After all, Jazda realised coolly, as buzzing cold swept over her thoughts, she'd just fought one of them again tonight.   
  
  
  



End file.
